


Beloved

by Hekate1308



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10, Destiel Reverse Bang 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10751157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: They are what their choices have made them: angel, demon, human. But more than anything else, they choose to love each other. And that choice will transform them.Season 10 AU.Destiel Reverse Bang 2017Art by T1gerlilly





	Beloved

Dead and yet not still clinging to existence.

A soul, broken, changing. Welcoming the darkness it had spent too long to keep at bay.

The darkness slowly giving way to words, the words beginning to make sense –

_Listen to me, Dean Winchester. What you're feeling right now - it's not death. It's life - a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel._ _And let's go take a howl at that moon._

Black eyes blinked open.

* * *

 

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Dean died and someone took his body.

Sam couldn’t remember when he had slept last, but it must have been –

Was it two or three days ago? He rubbed his eyes, trying to decipher another old text he’d found that promised a spell to pinpoint “those who were lost”. If only it would make sense –

And Dean being gone wasn’t even their only problem. Cas had immediately driven over to the Bunker after he had helped out another angel – Hannah, she’d been rather reluctant to leave him behind with Sam, but Cas had insisted – and it had only taken one look for Sam to see that the stolen Grace was taking its toll.

Cas needed to sleep now, and he’d even caught him stealing food from the fridge; now and then, he leaned heavily to a side as he walked.

Sam couldn’t imagine how Dean would feel if they got him back and Cas was –

Ever since he’d realized how bad it was, half his research had been dedicated to angelic lore.

After all, his brother had already been dead (Dean, bleeding to death in his arms _, I’m proud of us_ , his weight as he carried him to the room he’d loved – no, he wasn’t going to think about it).

But Cas was dying.

Sam couldn’t just leave the best friend he had ever known to die.

He’d never forgive himself.

“It’s 3 am. You should rest” the angel’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He sighed and turned around.

“So should you.”

Cas looked slightly better than he had this afternoon, and he was wearing – was that Dean’s dead guy robe?

If it helped him, Sam wasn’t going to ask.

“I did.”

Sam bit his lip. He looked away as he asked, “Do you have any idea how long it is going to last?”

“The Grace I stole?” Cas answered bluntly.

He nodded.

“Not for long, but I can’t be sure.”

Sam swallowed.

“You really should go to sleep”.

He laughed; he couldn’t help it. It sounded too much like Dean when they were little and Sam was too stubborn to go to bed.

“I know this isn’t easy. I – I miss him too” Cas admitted.

“I know” Sam said slowly without disclosing his suspicion that his friend missed Dean in a way he never would.

“But we will find him, Sam. You just have to be – “

“How do you know we will?”

“Because” Cas said simply, “We have to”.

* * *

 

His human self would have been rolling in his grave if he’d had a grave to begin with, Dean was sure, but why should he care?

The last few weeks had been a blast, even if he’d been hanging out with Crowley. Turned out the demon – well, fellow demon, now – could actually be kind of decent when Dean wasn’t focusing on carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Let someone else do that. He was done. Done with the Apocalypses and the ghosts and the hunts and the –

And the angels, he told himself firmly.

Not that he was thinking of a specific one. Why should he? All that was in the past. He’d not told Sammy to let him go, but Cas as well – he was pretty sure the angel would get the message. He was bound to show up at the bunker’s doorstep at one point. Loyal to the last drop of his fading Grace.

How had Samandriel put it? Too much heart was always Cas’ problem? Sounded about right.

He’d realized he’d been staring at another patron of the bar for a while just because he had dark hair and blue eyes and downed his shot before taking a beer and a glass of Craig to Crowley.

Naturally, his Highness couldn’t be bothered to get his own drinks.

“I was wondering if you would take the gentleman up on his offer. He seemed rather interested” the demon remarked as he put the drink down.

“Not my type” Dean said easily.

Once, he would have used the same sentence to try and justify the interest he absolutely did not have in men –

Who was he kidding? He’d hidden that part of himself all his life, but he didn’t care anymore. He’d had his fun with anyone who was willing in the last few weeks, male or female.

He’d kept away from dark-haired, blue-eyed guys for a reason, however. That was complicated, and he had no wish to make things complicated again, now that he was finally enjoying his life.

Crowley seemed to notice where this was heading and picked up his drink.

“Feeling nostalgic?”

“Thing of the past” he shot back because he was a freaking comedic genius, thank you very much.

“Good. There are other things to worry about anyway. One of Abbadon’s minions has been sniffing about.”

Dean sighed.

“Don’t look like that, Squirrel, we both know you need to feed the Mark regularly if you want to keep the party going.”

It was true. Even now, he could feel the Mark itch, begging him to kill. He wasn’t more homicidal than most demons, at least not normally, but if he waited too long –

“The guy who was watching me earlier? Any idea where he is?”

“I am rather sure he’s waiting outside”.

Dean snorted. Really, trying to ambush him? Freaking amateur.

“Be back soon.”

“I’m counting the minutes” Crowley told him, looking bored. He rolled his eyes and left.

He didn’t even grab the blade as he made his way to the best logical place for an attack – the shadowy corner at the end of the street.

Demons were so predictable.

Except for him, of course, but he hadn’t really gone through Hell again to become one.

“This isn’t going to work” he announced as he walked into the dark.

“Come on, I have a drink to get back to.”

Still, nothing.

“And here I thought you wanted to take revenge for a certain redhead – “

“Her name was Abbadon” the demon hissed, stepping forward.

“Yeah, well, the queen is dead, sorry.”

“And you killed her.”

“Perfectly true, but there’s nothing you can do about it now, can you.”

That prompted the demon to attack.

It was a quick kill, as Dean had expected. Most of these Abbadon supporters didn’t even try to make a plan before their assassination attempt.

Nonetheless, he had to admit it felt good. The throbbing at the back of his mind calmed down.

Murder had indeed become his drug.

He left the body in one of the     in the alley and returned to his drink.

“And?” Crowley drawled.

He rolled his eyes.  

“An easy kill”.

He could have sworn the guy hadn’t even really tried, if he hadn’t know better. Pathetic.

“I didn’t expect anything different”.

Of course not.

“I hope you at least got the good stuff”.

“Only the best for my friends.”

Friends. His human self would have been appalled.

But his human self was dead. That bridge had burned down, and he didn’t miss it. Buzzing with euphoria from the kill, he took a sip.

Hu. He had really gotten the good stuff.

Give that to him. Crowley wasn’t     .

“Any idea when the next Abbadon supporter is gonna show up? I’d like to finish my drink in peace.”

“The only reason you actually have peace to do so is the demon you just killed, need I remind you?”

Dean sighed. Sounded like it was just going to be one of those days.

Nothing.

They still came up with nothing.

They had tried psychics, but they had been no help; and this was Dean they were talking about; if he wanted to disappear, he could.

Although why –

It must have something to do with the Marc. Otherwise his brother would never have left.

Cas was getting worse, although he was trying to hide it.

Only yesterday, Sam had been looking for him all over the bunker only to find him in curled up in Dean’s bed, fast asleep.

He’d left without waking him up. If sleep helped....

He was starting to fear that they didn’t have much time, though.

He’d called Garth, anyone he could think of, but there was little lore on Grace to begin with, and practically none about stolen Grace going bad.

If nothing came up, he’d have to try and make contact with Heaven, something Cas was strictly against; but he couldn’t let their best friend die without trying everything.

He still dialled Dean’s number now and then. He couldn’t help it. His brother never answered, although his phone had gone missing with his body.

They still couldn’t explain how or why Dean was alive, either.

And then the news about the murder in the store hit.

The description immediately caught his eyes.

Around 6 feet, early to mid-thirties (alright, a little younger than Dean, but his brother had never really looked his age), green eyes –

“Cas!” he called out when it sank in that his brother was wanted for murder. And not in the way they usually were; no, he had been attacked and instead of defending himself, he had stabbed a man to death in public.

At least Cas looked a little better than he had that morning.

The colour he had gained left his cheeks when he read the description, however.

“Why would Dean – “

“I’m sure he had a reason” Sam interrupted him. He had to have had. This was Dean they were talking about. On the other hand... The Mark...

“We need to get there ASAP” he said.

* * *

 

Well that was fun. Dean laid back and grinned at the waitress.

Not Anne-Marie; he was starting to think the girl was actually growing fond of him, and he wasn’t that much of a jerk.

But soiling Crowley’s bed? Hell yeah. Now that was a good idea.

Son of a bitch was so particular about where he slept, too.

And he was pretty annoying, now and then.

Like before, when he had all but gloated about getting rid of another Abbadon supporter when Dean had done all the work.

As if he’d known, Crowley came in.

And he was pretty pissed.

What Dean didn’t count on was Sally getting pissed too.

As she gathered her clothes and left, she hissed, “You could have told me you had a boyfriend”.

“Oh don’t worry” Crowley replied, brightening immediately, “I have ways to remind him who he belongs to”.

Okay, now Dean was officially angry.

“I don’t belong to you or anyone” he spat as soon as Sally had left.

“Considering on whose tab you have been drinking in this mildew-rotted hell hole every night, I would reconsider that sentence.”

How he hated it when others tried to control him. Always had. And now, he sure as Hell wasn’t going to allow it anymore.

He lazily finished putting on his pants.

“You know I could kill you anytime, right?”

“I’d love to see you try, Squirrel.”

But Dean got the message.

Warning received.

Good.

“I actually came to tell you that a certain hunter and a decidedly not-looking-his-best angel just arrived in town”.

“How do you know?”

“You really think I wouldn’t?”

He couldn’t argue with that. Damn it, Sammy must have caught some of that news coverage. It wasn’t his fault that the guy had jumped him in the middle of a grocery store, but Crowley could very well think that, if he was being annoying.

“So what do you want me to do about it? I already told Sam to let me go; if he doesn’t, that’s his problem.”

“And our favourite little angle? He’s not doing so well, I hear. Stolen  Grace does have a rather interesting effect.”

He pushed away a twinge of worry, a reminder of what human Dean Winchester would have done hearing Cas was in danger or dying. After all, what did it matter to him? One less winged bastard in the world.

“Got no comment?”

“Shut up Crowley.”

“So, any plans on how to deal with brother dearest and rapidly-losing-feathers? You know me, I am never out of options.”

Dean ignored the innuendo, as he often did.

“You know what? They want to find me, let them. If he doesn’t wanna let go, I can show him he has no other option.”

After all, there were other ways to make people stop following him permanently.

Sam was glad he had forced Cas to stay at the motel the morning after they reached the town. Really,  feeling as bad as he did, the angel had had little choice.

And at least he didn’t have to see Dean’s eyes go black as he killed a man.

The worst part wasn’t even looking at Dean and seeing a demon.

No, the worst was that once and for all that, despite any crazy hopes and dreams he’d been harbouring, Dean was truly dead and a demon was inhabiting his body.

It should have sent the alarm bells ringing when within an hour he found out which bar in town Dean liked to drink at.

All signs pointed to a trap.

But Sam didn’t care.

He had to put a stop to this.

He debated calling Cas, but chose against it. His friend would just insist on coming with him, and he really should rest.

It was too early for a drink technically, but that had never stopped either of them before, if he was being honest, and he well knew that Crowley could get in anywhere he set his mind too.

Sure enough, it was as easy as opening the door and walking in to find Crowley and D-

To find Crowley and another demon sitting at the bar, no bartender in sight.

The buzz from the Mark hadn’t yet returned, so he had opted to join Crowley for his morning drink.

No point in wasting a supernaturally regenerating liver, after all.

But it would sadly prove a rather disappointing day.

“Any demons you want me to kill today? If so I’d rather get it over with.”

Instead of answering, Crowley stiffened and disappeared. Dean raised an eyebrow, but wasn’t overly concerned.

And that was when Sam stumbled into the bar, looking worried and scared at the same time.

Ah the time when he would have dropped everything and gone to comfort his brother. How long ago it seemed.

One request was enough to send the bartender away.

“Who winged you?” he asked, unconcerned.

“Does it matter?”

“Not really” he said simply, noting the pain in Sam’s eyes with satisfaction.

“I told you to let me go” he added just for the heck of it.

_Come on Sammy, try. Give me the puppy dog eyes, a speech, beg on your knees. I don’t care. And if you come too close –_

“I just don’t understand why you left” Sam insisted. “We know how to cure demons, remember?”

“A little Latin, lots of blood. It rings a bell.”

He stood up, grasping the blade.

Sam eyed the weapon as he continued, “But did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to be cured?”

“That was Crowley” Sam said helplessly.

“It really wasn’t”.

“Look, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that – “

“I’m not walking out that door with you to be cured, thank you very much. You should go. I’m giving you a chance here. You should take it.”

“I’ll pass.”

“I could always rip out your throat with my tongue” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Dean, this isn’t just about – Cas is dying.”

He was careful not to show any reaction. Crowley had already told him, hadn’t he? So why should Sam confirming it make it worse?

“Should have know that stolen Grace would come back to bite him in the ass.”

“And you should remember why he needed it in the first place”.

“He was trying to fix what was broken” Dean replied carelessly. “When has this ever been a good idea?”

“You really don’t care?” Sam asked, as scared as baffled.

Dean looked down into his glass.

He really really wanted not to care, but –

No. No buts. He’d turned into a demon, and that was what he was.

“Sam, this is your last chance. You should – “

The moment was ruined by Crowley showing up, looking incredibly pissed.

“Lucifer’s gone.”

“What – “

“From the cage. Some low-level demon was stupid enough to sneak in and bust him out. Something about “making hell great again”. That was all his friends would tell me.”

“I assume they’re dead?” Dean inquired carelessly.

“Naturally.”

“Are you two –“ Sam shook his head.

“IT doesn’t matter. Lucifer is free?”

“Roaming the earth as we speak.”

“What about Michael?”

“Trust me, he did everything he could to keep his brother locked up.”

Dean doubted Michael could have done much anyway – he certainly wasn’t available as a vessel this time around.

“So what now?”

“You better get Cas and work on it” Dean supplied.

“Need I remind you that this is a problem for all of us, Squirrel?” Crowley hissed.

“I’m not going to try and get in his way. He couldn’t do shit the last time around without Sammy as his vessel”.

“Dean” Sam said slowly, “I couldn’t have saved the world without you”.

“Yeah, well, it’s tried to croak so often, why not let it just drive the damn bus over the cliff already?”

It was then that he heard a well-known voice, sounding tired and defeated, “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas!” Sam exclaimed. “I told you to stay in the motel – “

Small chance of that, Dean found. Seriously, Sammy hadn’t seen this coming?

Cas didn’t answer him, focused on Dean.

He looked freaking awful. Like he needed at least a week of sleep and several decent meals, and that was no way for an angel to look.

That stolem Grace was really taking it out of him.

Dean, to prove that he didn’t care, poured himself another glass.

“Cas. Gotta say you’ve seen better days”.

“I’m fine” he said simply.

“Lucifer – “

“Kind of old news” Dean said, waving a hand at Crowley.

“Off you go, then. Take the two, save your kingdom.”

And this was when Cas collapsed.

Old instincts kicking in, Dean was the one to catch him.

“God, man, what have you done to yourself?”

“I’m fine” he insisted, collapsing against him.

“Cas – “

He was in no condition to fight Lucifer.

Not that it mattered to Dean.

“Look” Crowley began as he put Cas on a chair. The angel was swaying, but still conscious.

“If you want to sit this one out by murdering some more rock ballads, good for you, but remember Lucifer’s big plan? He wants to come after everyone with black eyes, remember?”

That was true.

Damn it.

“Fine” he sighed, holding onto Cas’ shoulders just in case.

“He should feel better in a minute” Sam said, stepping up to them.

Funny how he hadn’t immediately come to his aid.

* * *

 

“Does this happen often?” he asked despite himself.

“It’s getting more frequent” Sam admitted.

“Look, not that I don’t care about the choir boy – actually, I take that back, but could we come back to Lucifer?” Crowley demanded.

“I don’t care about your throne” Dean hissed.

“But the way you are clinging to Cassie, I would say you care about him, and he’s one of the first Lucifer will hunt down, if he’s still around when he has taken over.”

Dean grinded his teeth.

Crowley was right.

Sam and Cas would be the first on Lucifer’s kill list. He wouldn’t be a big fan of theirs. Or of Dean’s, for that matter.

“I’m in” he said, “but don’t expect me to help you all the time.”

That had been the old Dean, running himself ragged to try and save the world.

He was surprised when Cas gave him a pleased smile. He seemed to feel better in an instant, even got up on his own.

“Okay” he said to distract himself from the angel, “first things first. Do we know anything that can kill Lucifer? The Colt didn’t work out, as far as I recall.”

“Going right for it, are we?”

Dean shrugged.

“The sooner we deal with this, the sooner you’re all going to get out of my hair.”

Sam flinched, but strangely, Cas was still smiling.

There was something strange about Crowley’s expression, too.

Not the one on his meat suit, but his true face.

It had taken a bit to get used to seeing demon’s true faces, he was ready to admit. But after a while he’d barely paid attention.

Until now. Because there was something Crowley wasn’t telling.

“What is it?” he asked.

Crowley frowned.

“ Come on, you want the devil gone. Perhaps you should work with us.”

Crowley sighed and snapped his fingers.

A second later, they were alone in his mansion.

“What, did you just leave Sam and Cas in that bar?” he asked, surprised at his own anger.

“Relax, Mummy, we won’t be gone for long” he hissed. “Now do you want to know what’s going on or not? Because the way you’ve been behaving, you’re hardly an asset.”

“You didn’t think so when I ganked all those demons”.

“I need to know that I can trust – “

At that, Dean laughed. Crowley never trusted anybody. That was a well-known fact.

For a second, he could have sworn Crowley looked almost... hurt. Then he continued, “Are you in or out? Because, frankly, I’d rather not deal with one of your childish tantrums while we’re going after the devil.”

“Crowley, what is it you want? I chose to help you out, now let’s get back.”

“I just want to know why you agreed.”

Crowley looked at him as if he had his own thoughts on why, and he certainly didn’t want to hear it.

He slowly took out his blade. Crowley’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you really want to risk it?”

“Do you?”

With a snap of his fingers, they were back with Sam and Cas.

Sam looked relieved, while Cas was standing up and looking much better than before.

_Thank God._

The thought came unbidden and almost made him laugh.

“There might be... something” Crowley announced, giving him another strange look.

“What is it?”

“Michael’s Lance?”

“You... are in possession of Michael’s Lance” Cas said slowly.

“The archangel?” Dean demanded at the same time.

“No. The alcoholic bus driver from down the street who sold his soul to get his job back after his wife left him. Of course the archangel.”

“So this was the weapon he wanted to use against Lucifer?” Sam asked.

Crowley nodded.

“After you three shut down Lucifer, I was tasked to bring it to Ramiel.”

“Never heard that name.”

“But you might remember one of his brothers. Azazel? Both he and Ramiel were Princes of Hell.”

“Created by Lucifer after Lilith” Cas supplied.

“So what, there’s more than one yellow-eyed son of a bitch?” Dean asked. “Awesome. Are you even sure he still has the Lance?”

“Yes.”

That was enough for Dean, who knew Crowley wouldn’t lie (plus it would have shown on his true face) but not for Sam.

“And how can we be sure?”

“Trust me, Samantha, I want Lucifer to be dealt with. And for that, we need the lance. So it would be rather stupid of me to lie to you about where it is now, wouldn’t it?”

“Let it go, Sammy. He’s telling the truth.”

Sam did a double-take, but nodded with a smile, and it took Dean a second to realise why; he had just sounded like the hunter who had died what felt like months ago.

He frowned, showing his eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to get the Lance, then, But first” he pointed a finger at Cas, “we need to talk.”

He pushed the angel into the empty room behind the bar,.

“Are you up for a fight? And tell me the truth.”

When Cas didn’t answer immediately, he added, “And don’t look at me like that. I’m not...” he trailed off.

“What were you going to say?” Cas asked into the silence,

“That’s not what – “

“I am “up for a fight””.

He had somehow missed the quoty fingers,.

“And I want to know what you would have said, just then.”

“I’m not – “

He wasn’t going to feel bad about it, he told himself.

“I’m not your friend, Cas. I’m not who I was. Remember?”

He showed his eyes again.

Cas wasn’t perturbed at all.

“I know you are a demon”.

“And you’re... not even bothered?”

“I was” Cas admitted. “I will not deny that my... mental anguish did not help my... condition. But you decided to help us.”

“Because we both know you wouldn’t – “

“No, Dean” he interrupted him. “You _chose_ to help us. Even as a demon, you still have your free will.”

“You don’t know what happens if I don’t kill for a week.”

“If Cain could control it, so can you. You just haven’t tried because Crowley keeps sending you Abbandon supporters to get rid of.”

“How do you – “

Cas shrugged.

“It’s not difficult to figure out they were demons”.

“You’re something else.”

“So are you.”

“Your banter has gotten better” he pointed out.

“I try my best” Cas answered, smiling, before he grew pale once more and Dean stepped up to him.

“Cas – “

“I’m fine.”

“The patented Winchester way of saying “I am not fine at all” is not something you were supposed to pick up.”

“Dean, I promise. I can fight.”

“And what happens when...”

“I’ll die.”

The pain he felt was overwhelming, sharp and surprising despite everything. After all, even though he was a demon, he had known Cas for years.

“You can say it just like that?”

“There is much I have done I regret. This is retribution.”

“That’s bullshit. You don’t deserve to die.”

“Neither did you.”

He shrugged.

“Wouldn’t say that.”

When the absurdity of the situation struck both of them, they laughed.

Somehow, he realized, his urge to kill had faded into almost nothing since Sam and Cas had shown up.

And Cas was dying.

Cas would be gone.

He was well aware, as he and the angel returned to Sam and Crowley, who were eying each other with distaste, that his human feelings were not dead and buried as he had thought.

Yes, when he’d been human, he’d thought Cas was hot, but had denied it to himself. And it had been a bit more than that.

Okay, maybe a lot more than that.

And Cas still meant a lot to him, how wonderful.

Hell, he was glad to see Sam, too.

Damn it. Damn it all to Hell.

Seemed like he had actually chosen the gig after all. Cas was right.

Round seven hundred against Lucifer, here they went.

“So how soon can we get to Ramiel? We should strike before Lucifer has time to gather support.”

“He’s usually fishing in the afternoon.”

“Really? Cain had bees, Ramiel had fish... What is it with these guys and animals?”

“I have no idea, but I know where he lives, and we should get to the Lance quickly, because he will not give it up. He, like the other Princes, was created directly by Lucifer. He might have lived under the radar, but he will stay loyal to his creator.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything different”.

“Where does he live?” Cas asked.

“Wait, guys” Sam began, “We – “

“Sam, if we wait much longer, I will not be able to help” Cas pointed out.

He bit his lip.

He’d lied to himself about Cas’ condition for weeks, now. In the last half hour, he’d seemed to be getting better, but so people often felt before they –

His one solace was that Dean muttered something like “Shut up, Cas” before saying, “Okay, then. Tonight, then.”

Dean insisted on them all going back to Sam’s and  Cas’ motel and getting some rest. Neither he nor Crowley really needed it, but Sam was only human, and Cas...

Yeah. Better not think of that.

“How do you even find lost Grace” he muttered to himself. They had got lucky with Anna all these years ago.

“Thinking of your boyfriend?” Crowley asked. Dean sighed. He’d gone to the worst bar he could find for a purpose.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same. Aren’t we supposed to rest?”

“What do you want?”

“I was expecting you to be hungry for a kill by now” Crowley answered matter-of-factly, “but you’re too worried about your boy toy, right?”

“I – “

It was true; the call of the Mark had fallen silent for the first time in –

He shook his head.

“Crowely, not in the mood. Get out or just sit down and have a drink.”

To his surprise, he chose to do just that.

The sun was just setting when they reached Ramiel’s house.

Yes, he thought, remembering Cain, higher-level demons apparently really liked nature.

“Whatever you do, be careful handling the Lance” Crowley told him again. “Our favourite choir boy will rot away, me and Dean would go poof and Moose – well, you’d probably not react well to getting stabbed to begin with.”

“We got it the first even hundred times, Crowley” he mumbled, too busy with eying Cas to really pay attention.

He seemed to feel okay for now. But his Grace was still dying, and they had no idea where to get him some more.

He focused on the task at hand. Break into a Prince’s of Hell’s house, get an all-powerful weapon.

Should be easy.

Surprise. It wasn’t.

They had made their way through one whole room (really, with their track record, that was being lucky) before Ramiel strolled in.

Dean had thought his days of being thrown into walls were over.

Apparently not.

“Crowley” Ramiel said, “I thought I made my conditions clear.”

“Things have changed” Crowley gritted out between his teeth, sounding as if he was in pain.

Dean took a quick glance at Sam and Cas.

Crap. The angel didn’t look good. At all.

Should have known his assurances that all ws well had been a bunch of bullshit.

Although maybe it was just Ramiel’s powers. Dean would admit he was strong; it made sense that Crowley was afraid of him.

“I don’t care” Ramiel announced.

“You should” Crowley answered.

Alright, if he let him speak, they might actually have a chance. Say what you want about Crowley, but he usually talked good game.

“Let me phrase that again.”

Crowley groaned in pain. Dean couldn’t see him, immobile as he was; whatever it was that was holding him down, it seemed to be extremely powerful.

Seriously, if Azazel had packed half that power, they’d not be here now.

Dean was thinking quickly while Crowley tried to explain, through the pain Ramiel was inflicting, why they were here and why they needed the Lance.

Maybe he could work through the bond holding him. The Mark hadn’t just turned him into the usual, annoying kind of demon, oh no; even he wasn’t sure how much juice he’d got.

He’d just have to –

His first attempts were soon thwarted by Ramiel chuckling.

“So you want to use the Lance on Lucifer? I have a better idea. We should test it before, you know... make sure it still works.”

And then he suddenly had the weapon in his hand and was advancing towards Cas.

Dean would never know how he managed to find the strength.

But somehow, he was free.

He was fast, faster than he had ever been as a demon; and he knew fully well he could either try and tackle Ramiel or jump between Cas and the weapon.

He chose to do the later.

“Dean!” Cas screamed.

A searing pain in his side blinded him.

But – and this was the important part - He didn’t go poof as Crowley had predicted.

That was a plus.

True, the wound didn’t close up immediately, but there were more pressing concerns to deal with.

Turned out even princes of hell weren’t immune against the Blade of Cain.

He’d no idea how often he’d stabbed what at this point resembled more a bloody pumpkin than the face of the demon who’d tried to kill Cas when he heard his name being called.

When he looked to his right, Cas was anxiously looking over his wound.

“Don’t you – “

Before he had a chance to protest, Cas had healed him – a demon – and fallen over in a faint.

“Damn it, Cas – Sammy?”

His little brother and Crowley were suddenly next to him.

“We need help. Pray. What was that chick called again – Hannah I think – “

“I am here, Dean Winchester”.

Yep, the angel he had been thinking of. Who could smite him any second.

Not that it mattered.

“Look, lady, you can give me the disapproving stare all you want, but Cas – “

She mustered him, obviously surprised at seeing him cradling Cas in his arms.

“What happened?”

“He healed me.”

“Why?”

Dean was about to snap when Sam said, “he was trying to kill Cas. Dean stepped in.”

“You are a demon” she said matter-of-factly, still staring at Dean.

“I am. And so is he” he said, pointing at Crowley, “and if you don’t help Cas, you can – “

“Dean” Sam interrupted him.

“I am here to help” Hannah announced, holding out a small vial full of –

“Whose is this?” Sam asked. Dean didn’t care. He was already snatching it from her hands.

“That’s – Cas” he said, surprised that he knew. But this Grace could belong to no one else. He could feel it.

“Lucifer escaping made the other angels realize we need Castiel. He was the one who defeated him the first time – with you both. We... convinced Metatron to tell us where his Grace was”.

If dean had still been human, he would probably have flinched as Sam did, but he was too preoccupied to empty the Grace into Cas’ mouth to pay attention.

Light filled the room. When they opened their eyes again, Hannah was gone.

And Cas was still in Dean’s arm, looking up at him with an indecipherable expression in his eyes.

They decided that they’d spend a night at a nearby motel. They could all use a break.

Except for Crowley, obviously, who’d never stoop so low as to stay at such a place.

He’d be back.

“Dean” Crowley said as he was getting ready to leave, slowly, almost as if he was pressing the words out against his will.

“I am glad your stupidity didn’t put an end to you.”

Dean nodded.

They left it at that.

He really shouldn’t have gone to Cas’ room that night.

He still did, because even as a demon he was the king of bad decisions.

Cas opened at the first knock and beckoned in him, apparently feeling quite well.

But a moment later, Dean couldn’t say anymore if that had something to do with his Grace at all.

“You sacrificed yourself for me” Cas said slowly, his eyes shining.

“It turned out okay. I’m fine.”

“Still – you chose to do it. Between your life and my death, you chose...”

Cas reached out and cradled his left cheek in his hand.

Almost, but only almost against his will, he leaned into the touch.

“I would choose you as well” the angel breathed, “I want you to know”.

“But – “

A kiss cut his response short.

He could have shoved him away, he could have wondered if this would ever have happened if he’d still been human, but instead he drew him close, kissing back, every desire he had ever suppressed washing over him, drowning him.

This was probably the worst idea either of them could have had.

It still felt freaking awesome, though.

Afterwards, things got awkward. Should he leave? Probably. He’d just... defiled an angel. If that was a thing.

Was Cas unclean now? Hell, had he really been ready? He’d just got his Grace back –

“Stop it” Cas muttered, drawing him closer.

“Stop what?”

“We made our choice” he continued, “and we’ll stick with it.”

Dean snorted.

“Cas, we’re going up against Lucifer.”

“We’ll just have to hold on tight, then.”

His angel really had changed a lot since they had met.

This should have been hard.

No, really.

It should have been the hardest fight of their –

Who was he kidding?

They’d had so many “worst” fights, it was impossible to tell anymore.

* * *

 

And as it turned out, Lucifer had definitely not counted on Michael’s vessel yielding the Lance after he became a demon.

Yes, they were all roughed up a bit by the time he plunged the Lance into Lucifer’s chest – but still.

He would have called the whole thing anticlimactic if he hadn’t noticed something.

The kill had been quick, efficient, and felt like the old times.

Almost as if the Mark was no longer on his arm.

It was over. It was finally over.

Lucifer was dead, Cas was healthy, and Dean...

Well, Dean was going back to the bunker and hunting with Sam. Even Crowley had accepted that.

Just as Sam had accepted that Crowley would be around more. What could Dean say? They were friends, kind of, sort of.

Still.

But Cas...

Before they got into the Impala, he pulled Cas aside.

“So, you look good.”

“My Grace is fully functional” he assured him.

Dean coughed. Really, it was better for all if Cas returned to Heaven. No reason to hang around a demon, for one.

“I was just wondering...”

Cas kissed him.

“I’ll stay here. With you.”

“For how long?”

“For the rest of my existence.”

“I am a demon” he reminded him.

“And I am an angel”. Cas smiled.

“You actually tried to stab me when we met.”

Dean frowned.

“Don’t remind me. So – we’re doing this?”

Cas just kissed him again.

“Sorry to interrupt, Squirrel, but it’s time I was on my way.”

He pulled away to look at Crowley.

“Don’t be a stranger” he told him and meant it.

Crowley nodded, but he couldn’t hide the surprise on his true face as he vanished.

After they had returned to the bunker, Cas left them alone, wandering off to what he had decided to call “our” room, and Dean’s heart definitely didn’t flatter.

Badass demon. Yep. That was him.

“Dean” Sam said slowly, “We don’t know if it will work, but we could try the cure. You might become human again –“

“Or I could die” he said.

The Men of letters certainly had never thought of the Mark of Cain when they had created their cure.

“Yes. I am not telling you to do it. I am saying you have a choice.”

Like all the other choices he’d made since Sam came into that bar.

Not to pat himself on the back, but they had been pretty good ones, in his opinion.

“I’d still have the Mark” he said.

Sam shrugged.

“We’ve tackled worse”.

True, he could probably stay in control. He hadn’t even really snapped before Metatron killed him.

And yet...

Now that he had found out he could repress his urges just as well, if not better, than Cain ever had, he was actually feeling pretty good.

Unless God suddenly decided to reappear, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to try and mess with the Marl anyway.

And of course there was –

“Kinda unsure about this whole thing. I mean, Cas is an angel, and someone’ll have to look after him through the centuries. Whoever it is, guy’s got his work cut out for him, I can tell.”

Sam chuckled before he grew serious again.

“Like I said, it’s your call. But – it’s – “

“Sam? What are you asking?”

“What are your plans?”

And just like that, Dean understood.

“Hey, can’t have you running around all on your own. That’s my job, isn’t it? Looking out for my pain-in-the-ass brother?”

“So – “

“So we’ll hunt, and we’ll get the old network of the Men of Letters rolling, and we’ll save people”.

“All three of us?”

“Of course. Cas isn’t going anywhere.”

Sam pulled him into a hug.

“And the urge to kill?” he asked after he’d let go.

“What urge? I’m pretty sure I’ve found a better way to make to work it out.”

He wiggled his eyebrows.

Sam gave him a bitchface.

* * *

 

That night, after they had stopped panting, Dean chuckled.

Cas raised his head from the pillow.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just... Who would have thought? An angel, a demon and a human, working to make the world a better place.”

Not to mention the angel and demon were a thing now.

Times were changing. They knew that better than anyone.

Cas chuckled and pulled him in for another kiss.


End file.
